


reason to stay

by bleep0bleep



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Autumn, Baker Stiles Stilinski, Courtship, Domestic, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Single Parent Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/pseuds/bleep0bleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is cruel. Derek Hale is only going to be here in Beacon Hills for a week. Sundays Fun Days is a lie. It was not fun, getting a bit of hope and having it torn away.</p><p>How much wooing can Stiles do in a week, anyway?</p><p>~<br/>It's the last week of October, and a small town baker has run into his first crush again. Fate might have other ideas. Stiles tries for romance with a little help from what Beacon Hills does best—  Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sundays Are Fun Days

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for [Sterek Week 2015.](http://sterekweek2015.tumblr.com/post/announcement) Doing something a little different, instead of a ficlet or so for each theme, I thought it would be fun to write one continuous fic incorporating all the themes! Look for a new chapter every day of the event!
> 
> Thank you to [metakate](http://metakate.tumblr.com) and [sourwolfandsarcasm](http://sourwolfandsarcasm.tumblr.com) for the read through and thoughts!

Stiles is waiting to be inspired.

He’s a baker, not an artist, but hey, there are quite a few reviewers on Yelp who claim to differ. That his pastries are _absolutely inspired_ and _to die for_ and _I could never imagine this before I saw it and then after tasting it I knew I couldn’t go to any other baker._ His little bakery in middle-of-nowhere-northern-California is a far, far cry from the hustle and bustle of the cutthroat restaurant industry in New York City, but after leaving his Michelin-three-star rated restaurant, Stiles can finally breathe again.

It’s not that being a chef wasn’t what he loved; but he had little creative control over his own menu, and the restaurant owners refused to let him experiment. There was that and the people— once that review of Stiles’ cooking came out, the rich and powerful flocked to the little restaurant, and the delighted owner had redesigned and raised the prices threefold, turning the hole-in-the-wall into a high class dining establishment with reservations booked for months.

No, it wasn’t what Stiles wanted. He quit and hopped on the next plane back home and here he was back in Beacon Hills, with his very own bakery of his own. It’s a lot smaller than any of the restaurants he’s worked, but it’s entirely his own. Plus Stiles closer to his aging dad (who’s still, remarkably the Sheriff, even as he’s getting on in years), and his best friend Scott McCall, who returned to Beacon Hills after college, married his high school sweetheart and opened up his own veterinary clinic and animal shelter, and pretty much never left the town again.

It was a good bargain. Living in New York alone, too busy working to enjoy any of the actual fun things the city had to offer, constantly stressed, cooking only for the privileged elite, versus being surrounded by his friends and family, making a significantly less amount of money but getting to be creative and actually having the time to enjoy himself. Hell yeah.

Sundays are Fun Days. That’s Stiles’ motto. Every Sunday he lets the first customer of the day design their own creation— and he’ll make it. Stiles even has his own hashtag on Instagram, #sundaysfundays. It gets a lot more traffic than his actual hashtag for the bakery, but Stiles can deal.

The bakery has been open for three minutes, and Stiles is excited, wondering what his customer will want. Maybe a cake in the shape of a T-Rex? A pie bigger than their face?

Stiles sets out the morning’s rack of scones and pastries, double checks that the coffee is ready. He’s ready. So ready.

The bell above the door chimes merrily and Stiles turns away from the coffee to look for his first customer of the day, but he doesn’t see anything.

Then he looks down.

There’s a little girl with leaves in her dark hair and lopsided pigtails grinning gappily-toothed at him. “Hi, Mr. Baker,” she says.

“Hello there!” Stiles says, smiling back at her. “My name’s Stiles, you don’t have to call me Mr. Baker.”

“Mr. Stiles,” the girl says, nodding seriously. “I’m Elyse.”

“Is.. your mommy or daddy nearby?” Stiles asks, a bit concerned. He looks outside the front door but he doesn’t see a worried parent or something on the sidewalk.

Elyse shakes her head. “I don’t have a mommy. I was grown inside a big big machine that my daddy gave some of his special magic to because he wanted a baby so, so much, and then when I was big enough they put me inside my Auntie Laura who helped make me, but she isn’t my mommy, she’s my auntie, and she was just helping.”

To Stiles’ relief, while Elyse was talking, the door opened again and a bearded man rushes in with a chubby beagle at the end of a leash in one hand and bags of groceries in the other, a stricken expression on his face. The man sets down the groceries and swoops up Elyse in a tight hug. “Elyse! How many times have I said not to rush ahead!”

He looks up at Stiles, who is momentarily overwhelmed by the mixture of gold and green in his eyes. His whole face is gorgeous, really. Stiles coughs and takes a step back.

“I’m so sorry if she startled you while you were at your work, we were just walking down Main Street and she just started running for your store, just completely taking me by surprise, and then the dog got me tangled up in a tree, and wow, you must think I’m the worst father in the world.”

He even blushes gorgeously. He looks startlingly familiar, now that Stiles thinks about it, and he’s trying his best to place those eyes.

“And she’s really into.. explaining things, right now. I tried to be really transparent about the surrogate process, but she’ll tell anyone and everyone about it. Sorry about the TMI,” he adds.

“Nah don’t worry about it, it was cool. And you caught up to her right away, and you were right behind her,” Stiles says.

“Sir Barkington really loves trees,” Elyse muses dreamily.

“She’s going through a princess phase,” the man says, sighing a little but patting his daughter’s hair fondly, picking out the leaves. “Some sort of fight the dragon save the prince— who is very often our dog— princess phrase, but one nonetheless.”

Stiles sweeps a majestic bow to Elyse. “Your Highness, I am pleased to inform you that as first customer of the day, I shall make your heart’s desire for you, whether or not tis on yonder menu.”

Elyse’s eyes widen. “Ooh, a toast castle! Will you make me a toast castle, Mr. Stiles!?”

Toast castle. Definitely hasn’t heard that one before. Well, Stiles has an idea. “Of course, your Highness.”

He gets to work right away, despite the man’s protests that he doesn’t have to. Stiles rolls his eyes and informs him that it’s tradition, and there’s no arguing about it.

There’s an uncut loaf of sweet buttermilk bread that he cuts a few thick slices of, then makes an egg batter with cream and fresh ground vanilla beans, soaking the bread in it.

“You’re welcome to have a seat and wait, Princess Elyse and King…?”

“I’m Derek, by the way. My sister speaks very highly of your pastries, and I thought I’d check out the place while I’m here.”

“Derek Hale?” Stiles splutters. He knows Cora, has known her since high school, and he has a very vivid memory of working on a school project with her after school when her home-from-college older brother had entered the house from his afternoon run and pulled his shirt off…

Let’s just say a young Derek was pretty much the catalyst for a teenage Stiles discovering his bisexuality.

Derek at nineteen had been attractive, yeah, but this Derek— stubbled and filling out his shirtsleeves and giving his daughter indulgent smiles is just jaw dropping.

Now here on the wrong side of thirty, he’s pretty much squeaking and acting like that teenager with a crush again.

Derek rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, Stiles, right? I didn’t know if you remembered me. But yeah, we’re visiting Beacon Hills for the week.”

“Oh? Where are you coming from?”

“Elyse and I are living in DC right now, but we’re spending time here so Elyse can do Halloween and visit with our extended family. It’s nice to be back in Beacon Hills, I’ve been thinking about moving back here for awhile, but for now I just bring Elyse down here for Halloween for all the great stuff the town puts on.”

They chat amiably for a bit and Stiles is flattered to hear Derek followed his name in the food industry for a bit, and then Stiles starts talking with Elyse about her favorite foods, and she asks tons of questions about the pastries in the case and how he bakes them.

Sir Barkington wanders around the counter and starts sniffing at Stiles’ feet, and he laughs, resisting the urge to pet the dog while he’s handling food. Instead he pours a bowl of water for the puppy and hands it to Derek, pointing out the bag of treats by the door that Stiles leaves out for customers with pets.

It’s been a long while since Stiles has had a conversation with someone he’s attracted to; and he likes kids, Elyse is great. The fact that Stiles has had a long-standing crush on Derek _since high school_ also is probably a huge factor in how overwhelmed he feels right now.The wheels are already turning in his head, and if he didn’t already know Derek is going to head across the country right after Halloween he’d seriously consider asking the man out.

And yet.

Stiles tries to get a grip on himself as he turns on the stove. He butters up a pan while talking with Elyse about some of his favorite princesses, and then throws the slices of toast in the pan, frying them until they’re crisp.

Stiles lets Elyse watch as he assembles the castle with “bricks” of toast, a simple square base for the main fortress, and one tall tower. He garnishes it with slices of fresh strawberries, pipes some green icing quickly along the tower, adds some ice cream cones for the pointed roof of the tower, drizzles caramel and chocolate syrup and then shakes powdered sugar all over it.

“Tada,” Stiles announces.

Elyse screams with delight, bouncing up and down as Stiles sets the plate down at one of the tables.

Derek reaches for his wallet. “How much do I—”

“On the house,” Stiles insists.

Derek nods, smiling. “Oh, is that part of your first customer of Sunday thing?”

There’s a few other people in the shop now, lining up, and Mrs. Simmons, who has been coming into the bakery since it opened, clucks her tongue. She definitely knows Stiles charges for all his Sunday Fun Days.

Stiles gives her a pleading expression.

“Welcome back to Beacon Hills,” Stiles says warmly. “I’ve gotta—”

“Thank you,” Derek says, shaking his hand. “I mean, really. I’ve never seen her so happy. Or messy.”

Elyse has dived headfirst into the toast castle and her face is covered in syrup and sugar. She’s grinning from ear to ear, though.

Sir Barkington barks in approval.

Something inside Stiles melts. “My pleasure. I’ve got other customers, so you enjoy.”

He takes care of the other customers while keeping an eye on Derek and Elyse. He’s attentive towards his daughter, laughing and joking with her, and the two of them eat their toast castle and also read from a storybook while Derek plays with Sir Barkington’s floppy ears. Stiles can kinda hear them from where he’s working, and it sounds like Derek’s doing voices and veering heavily away from the book, improvising with a story about the dog as a knighted prince instead.

It’s the kind of sweet domestic picture Stiles has always wanted for himself; he never had time for serious relationships in New York, and ever since he came back to Beacon Hills there hasn’t been anyone he’s really been interested in dating.

Derek waves at him as they leave, and Stiles’ heart does flip flops.

The door closes.

Life is cruel. Derek Hale is only going to be here in Beacon Hills for a week. Sundays Fun Days is a lie. It was not fun, getting a bit of hope and having it torn away.

How much wooing can Stiles do in a week, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Beacon Hills Historical Ghost Tour is a good... first date... right?


	2. Yesterday Was History, Tomorrow a Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [mad-madam-m](http://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com) for the quick and lovely beta! Also to [fauvistfly for the cute song idea!](http://fauvistfly.tumblr.com)

When he gets home, Stiles gives Scott a call. He hears the phone pick up but there’s a few seconds of excited children giggling and Scott going, “Give daddy back the phone now,” and more shrieks and laughter until Scott finally comes on the line.

“Give Reeses and Pieces my love,” Stiles croons. He adores his niece and nephew, and they adore him back. He is the best godfather slash uncle slash fun adult figure in their little baby lives.

“Stiles, I’m not gonna call my children Reeses and Pieces, this nickname of yours has to—”

“Too late,” Allison yells from the background. “My dad was calling them that yesterday. Months of careful deliberation of names and Stiles does it all away in a second.”

“Hey, tell Ally that nicknames are awesome, and the twins have the rest of their adult lives to be called Ronald and Patricia,” Stiles says. The twins are in their twos now, and Scott and Allison just went back to working full time. If it weren’t for Chris being retired (and loving spending every moment with his grandchildren), they’d be running their parents in circles.

Scott laughs, and they talk a bit about their day. Scott’s a bit weepy because one of his favorite dogs— a Malamute mix who’d been at the shelter for a month— finally was adopted.

“It was this couple, and they were so happy, and I’m so happy, and remember when you said you would think about getting a dog because you said you were _so_ lonely—”

“Hey, Scott, remember Derek Hale?”

“Oh yeah, Cora’s older brother. You had the worst crush on him when we were in high school. Why?”

“He’s in town for a week.”

There’s silence on the other line, and Stiles can just imagine Scott’s thought process right now, running through all possible scenarios. “Aw, no, I’m sorry, dude,” Scott says gently. “Are you okay? Do you want me to come over after work?”

“Thanks, bro, but I did my moping about it and thought for awhile. Like, better to have loved, right?”

“And don’t forget long distance.”

“And lot can happen in a week, and he did say he was thinking about moving here. If I don’t ask him out I’ll never stop regretting it.”

“A lot can happen in a week. You got this.”

Stiles excitedly talks to Scott for a bit about his encounter with Derek and his daughter, and Scott had a great idea about them taking the twins to see if he might encounter them at the local park or something, and then they start casting about ideas for dates.

“Beacon Hills in the fall is super romantic. Right?”

Scott, ever the romantic, gives him an encouraging whoop. “Dude, yes. We’ve been the number one small town fall festival in California for ten years running. We were in Better Homes and Gardens. I mean, there’s tons of cute stuff to do this week— apple picking, hayrides, the pumpkin patch—”

“Ghost tour,” Stiles says.

Silence from Scott.

“What? Come on, it’s awesome! Look, if the guy doesn’t appreciate a ghost tour, I’m not sure I want to date him.”

“That’s a good point,” Scott agrees. “It’s not really romantic, though.”

“Scotty, I have a _week.”_

 

* * *

 

Stiles finishes baking the morning’s bread and pastries for the day an hour early this fine Monday morning, and instead of lounging around the bakery drinking coffee, waiting to open at six A.M., he loads up a box, ties it with a pretty ribbon, and hops into his Jeep.

He drives twenty minutes to Devonport, and parks in the lot outside the refurbished warehouse that houses the county’s biggest mixed martial artists training center and fighting arena. Stiles strides right into the gym, popping open the lid of his box just a little so the aroma of freshly baked almond and blueberry oatmeal scones, Cora’s favorite, fills the air.

Despite the early hour, there’s a good number of fighters training already, and quite a few heads turn as Stiles walks past. He hands out a few scones and business cards for his bakery, walking until he spots Cora in the corner, jumping rope.

“Heyyy,” Stiles says gallantly, holding the box proudly. “How’s my favorite champion fighter?”

Cora rolls her eyes without losing the rhythm of the rope. “I’m the only champion fighter you know personally, I better be your favorite,” she mutters.

“Of course you are,” Stiles says. “Made you your favorite,” he says. “And for you too,” Stiles adds, pulling out of the box a cinnamon apple bearclaw for Boyd, Cora’s trainer.

“Don’t mind if I do, thanks, Stiles,” Boyd says, taking the bearclaw with one of those rare Boyd smiles. “Cora, take ten.”

“Almond and blueberry scones? With blueberries out of season?” Cora asks, raising her eyebrows as she sets down her rope. She wipes her face with a towel and takes a swig of water before sitting down on a bench.

Stiles plops down next to her, shaking the box hopefully. “I always keep a stash in the freezer. Plus I wanted to make these specially for you,” he singsongs.

Cora makes a noncommittal hmm noise, and then plucks a scone out of the box, nibbling at it thoughtfully. “No, I’m not giving you my brother’s number,” she says.

Stiles groans. Is he that obvious?

“But I will give yours to him, if you want. He totally grilled me when I got home last night, so you must have made some sort of impression on him. I have no idea how. You’re a complete nerd.”

Stiles leaps into the air, whooping for joy, scattering scones everywhere.

Cora eyes the scones rolling away on the gym floor. “See? What’d I tell you. Complete nerd. But then again, so is he. I think you two could be good together. And I’ve seen you with the McCall babies and I know you love children, so.”

Stiles seizes Cora in a hug, kissing her rapidly on the cheek.

“I’m sweaty and gross, weirdo,” Cora says, laughing, but she ruffles Stiles’ hair back. “”I take it that’s a yes.”

“Yes, a thousand times yes, give him my number, tell him I—”

“Figured out you were attracted to guys when you saw his glistening torso that afternoon at my house when we were teenagers?”

Stiles flushes. “No, don’t tell him that. Just that it was nice seeing him again, and I’m…”

Boyd lets Stiles brainstorm with Cora, but only if he does next ten minute workout with her.

Stiles returns to his bakery exhausted. And his butt muscles hurt from all the lunges.

 

* * *

 

Stiles paces back in forth in front of his Jeep, looking at the already waiting crowd of people bundled up with their mugs of hot apple cider and hot chocolate, with the tour guide, Erica, ready to start the tour.

Still no sign of Derek.

Stiles had been so excited when Derek had called, and doubly excited when Derek said the haunted walking tour was a great idea. They’d planned to meet at the parking lot in front of the town square— the tour’s starting point— at seven o’clock, but Derek is nowhere to be found.

Should he text? Call? What’s the etiquette here?

Erica gives him a _what’s going on_ gesture, and then jerks her head at the crowd of people, waiting for the tour to begin. It’s already ten past seven.

A black Camaro hastily parks, and then Derek gets out of it. Stiles’ heart swells with relief as Derek waves sheepishly at him. He looks great, in dark blue jeans and a zipped up leather jacket, walking around the side of his car and then opening the door to a fluffy blue and orange tulle bedecked Elyse.

Derek takes her hand and they cross the street to join the rest of the tour-goers.

Erica coughs, a major feat considering she’s wearing “authentic” historical garb— well authentic fo Erica, anyways, with a poofy beige blouse, flowing skirts and a tight bustier. “Well, then if we’re all here, we can begin the amazing— the legendary— Historical Beacon Hills Haunted Walking Tour!” She sweeps her arms dramatically, and her sleeves catch the wind.

People start clapping enthusiastically, and Erica starts the speal— a history of Beacon Hills. Stiles knows it by heart, so he focuses on Elyse’s excited face, and Derek standing next to him, as they follow the group around the town square. There are a few more stories, and then Erica leads the group in a [fun Halloween song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cm1qvX1ygOo) about pumpkins, which Elyse already knows from school and she starts singing at the top of her lungs.

Erica is in the middle of a story about the founders and deciding to build the statue when Derek’s shoulders brush against Stiles’.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Derek whispers, leaning in close enough to Stiles’ face that he can feel the brush of his beard. “I know this was going to be a date, and Laura promised she’d babysit but something came up at work and then Cora was already at—”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Stiles says. “I wouldn’t have suggested the tour if I didn’t think Elyse could come and have a good time. Look, other people brought their kids too. It’s totally chill.”

Other people are in fact, families— married couples with their children, looking curiously over in Stiles’ direction. And elderly Mrs. Simmons, of course, who is a history buff and goes to every single one of these tours, is now wagging her eyebrows suggestively at Stiles.

“Elyse, do you like spoooooky things?” Stiles asks, crouching down low.

Elyse nods. Now that Stiles can see her up close, the fluffy princess dress looks homemade, bedazzled with orange and blue fabric and glitter. Elyse is also wearing a Mets baseball cap.

“You’re gonna love this, this was one of my favorite things as a kid. And are you a Mets princess, because I think you just stole my heart away…”

“Yes! No one else got it. Baseball is awesome. See, Daddy, I told you it wasn’t weird.”

“I never said it was,” Derek says, throwing up his hands.

“You made the face,” Elyse says, accusingly.

“Shhhhh,” one of the mothers in front of them chides.

They fall silent as they walk down Main Street, and Erica tells them the legend of Murphy the cat, the mysterious black feline which is rumored to have lived here for hundreds of years, guarding the town from evil.

Elyse is spellbound by the story, gasps with fear when Erica drops her voice to talk about the vengeful ghosts that Murphy fights off. She startles Stiles by grabbing his hand, squeezing it tight.

“In case you were afraid,” Elyse says, looking up at Stiles. “You can hold my hand.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Stiles whispers back.

“You should hold Daddy’s hand too, he’s a big scaredy cat. He’s not good during spooky movies,” Elyse says firmly.

“I—ah— okay, she’s not entirely wrong,” Derek says, flushing a little.

Stiles offers his other hand to Derek.

Derek smiles and takes it, his fingers curling around Stiles’ own.

Orange and gold leaves rustle along the path, and a slow wind bearing the scent of fresh earth and pumpkin from down the world brushes past them in the calm, twilight evening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: moonlight is definitely romantic.


	3. Moon Pies and Pink Dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I may have mixed up the themes-- tomorrow is the crayon/ theme by color day, but I figured out how to make it work, kinda sorta hopefully? Todays's theme is Hunter's Moon, or anything to do with the full moon. So. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Tuesdays are Stiles’ busiest day of the week. First of all, the yoga studio across the street from his bakery has their biggest class, and when it lets out everyone likes to come over and get something to eat and chat, and then in the afternoons the elementary school down the street has their walking recess, so Stiles always has a bunch of fresh cookies ready.

He’s in a bit of a daze this morning, having replayed last night’s events over and over in his head. The tour itself Stiles has no memory of— it’s fine, he knows all the ghost stories by heart, having been on the tour multiple times since he moved back to Beacon Hills.

But the feel of Derek’s hand in his, the way Derek smiled at him— oh, Stiles is still feeling butterflies. And there hadn’t been much time to talk without interrupting the tour, but Derek had laughed at Stiles’ jokes, and even offered Erica a few colorful addendums of his own. Stiles knew the Hales were one of the founders of the town, but it’s always been one of those things that people forget that there’s a living family still who’ve got their own stories, passed on through the years.

Derek’s a history professor, been teaching for a few years, and just published his first book, an in depth discussion about the success of the New Deal and a proposal on how a similar tactic could be applied to today’s economy. Stiles doesn’t know much about economics, but he could listen to Derek’s caramel voice all day. He’s a little ashamed at himself for not having asked Derek to dinner and just talked with him all night, but _ghosts._

And Derek liked the ghost tour. He thought it was awesome. And Elyse was right, he did shake a little during the chilling tale of the witch’s lost toe, but Stiles thinks it’s adorable.

Dinner. Stiles should ask Derek to dinner. Where would be a good place? Italian is cliche, but there is that build-your-own-pizza place, and—

“Stiles!”

“Wha…?” Stiles jerks up, and shrieks as hot coffee pours all over his arms. He drops the coffee pot and the overflowing cup with a curse, and he looks reproachfully up at Mrs. Simmons, who is clucking her tongue at him.

There’s broken pottery all over the floor, and spilled coffee everywhere. Stiles sighs and heads to get the broom.

“I’ll take care of this, dear, you go run cold water on those poor arms of yours,” Mrs. Simmons says.

Stiles gratefully hands her the broom and heads for his sink instead, where he runs ice water over his angry red skin until the pain subsides. His arms are still throbbing when he comes back to a clean floor and Mrs. Simmons sitting at one of the tables, sipping a fresh cup of coffee.

“You really should have someone else working with you, this whole bakery is too much for one person,” she says primly.

“It’s not that I couldn’t afford it, it would just be.. I dunno, I don’t like having another person underfoot, and then I’d have to explain my organizational system, and…”

Mrs. Simmons points with one hand and starts naming each and every one of the shelves in the open kitchen facing the main room, and then raises her eyebrows. “Do you want me to describe the back kitchen?”

Technically it’s employees only, but Mrs. Simmons had this rhubarb pie recipe and she was willing to share, okay?  

Ten minutes later Stiles has a new employee. She even brought her own paperwork.

“It’s a good thing, this. Now I can be helpful to you, and I won’t be bored at the senior citizen’s center, and you’ll have more time for courting that young man of yours.” Mrs. Simmons ties an apron neatly around her waist and rearranges one of the cupcake displays.

“My what?”

“Maybe not yet, but you’re working on that, right?”

Cheeky old woman. Stiles shakes his head.

Mrs. Simmons shoos him away. “Go take your lunch. You’ve been working longer than six hours, and California law states that all employees have to take a break. Go.”

“I’m the boss,” Stiles mutters, but his stomach growls, and he grudgingly lets her push him out the door.

 

* * *

 

Stiles finds himself at the beautifully sprawling farm estate that now houses Scott’s animal clinic, the pet shelter, boarding facilities and even a pet grooming station. His heart swells a little with pride as he walks onto the grounds, tossing an errant tennis ball to some excited puppies running around in their section of the lawn. He waves at a few employees, and Isaac doesn’t even give him the stink eye. Much. He’s probably still mad at Stiles for feeding some of the dogs too much. (Some of them are on diets.)

Young intern Gabby walking three dogs tells Stiles that Scott’s in the grooming station with a client, so Stiles heads over to the refurbished stables to find Scott. He ignores the sign that says “Keep Door Closed” and throws it open, yelling, “Scotty! Guess who has an official employee now and I can now leave my work for lunch! I brought you a meatball sub, dude… ?”

A pile of pink bubbles and suds rushes past Stiles.

“Stiles! The door! The dog!” Scott rushes past him, covered in bubbles.  

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry!’ Stiles drops the bag of food on a nearby counter and races after Scott and the (pink?) dog.

Luckily the path is all fenced in, but it’s a huge stretch of open space. Stiles catches up to Scott and the dog, who’s shedding bubbles with speed, and he recognizes the brown (dark pink) spotted beagle. “Sir Barkington!” Stiles says, surprised.

Sir Barkington yips delightedly and shakes his tail— more like shakes his whole butt. The dog is pink and soapy all over, and is now… rolling around in the grass and the dirt.

“C’mon, buddy, let’s go back and get you nice and clean,” Scott says cajolingly, reaching for the dog. Sir Barkington squirms out of Scott’s hands and the offered collar and instead starts running in circles playfully.

Stiles chases the dog in a circle, and then grins when Sir Barkington decides to chase him back. “Great game, awesome!” Stiles says, running back towards the grooming station.

Once inside Scott shuts the door, and the two of them gasp for breath. Stiles looks up and laughs; the two of them are covered in dirt and bubbles and pink streaks.

Sir Barkington wags his butt and pants happily at them.

“I’ve been trying to get this dog clean for hours,” Scott says.

“You’re a veterinarian,” Stiles says pointedly.

“I know, but I didn’t have any appointments today, and Gabby needed the practice walking dogs, and Isaac’s allergic to the shampoo we use…” Scott shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Wanna take a break?” Stiles holds up the offered bag of food.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is beginning to think it’s a great idea, hiring Mrs. Simmons if it means no more hasty eating at the counter and more time to enjoy his meal. Scott is extremely excited about how last night’s date went and supports the dinner idea. They hang out for a bit, and Sir Barkington gets a meatball or two as well, and then Stiles decides to help Scott with the cleaning process.

“Aw, no,” Scott groans after another rinse, and Sir Barkington is still determinedly pink.

“Dude,” Stiles says. “It’s okay. I think Derek will understand.”

Scott glances at the clock. “Oh man, it’s one o’clock already, I bet he’s already here to pick him up. I’m gonna check, I’ll be right back.”

Sir Barkington whines.

“Do you like being pink, buddy? I think it’s a good color on you,” Stiles says, playing with the dog’s floppy ears. “I bet Elyse had something to do with this. This is probably why my dad never let me have pets when I was growing up.”

The dog leaps up onto Stiles, placing his wet soapy paws on his chest and starts licking his face. “Aaahh, yeah, okay,” Stiles says. “This was a clean white shirt. Now it’s a dirty, wet, pink shirt.” Stiles stands up, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it in Scott’s laundry pile. Scott has to have like, a clean set of clothes for himself or his staff somewhere...

The door opens and Sir Barkington snaps to attention immediately, bounding forward.

“Hey there,” Derek says, rubbing his head fondly. He looks up and sees Stiles, cheeks going pink.

“I ah, hey. I was helping Scott try to wash your dog, and um, yeah. Sorry. Unsuccessful.” Stiles folds his arms self consciously, hoping his freckled torso isn’t a huge turnoff. He hadn’t been planning on being seen without his clothes for awhile— give him some time to work out and stuff, but well.

“Did he ruin your shirt? I’m so sorry,” Derek says.

“It’s fine, I might have a spare back at the bakery.” Stiles can see Scott in the open door behind Derek, who then winks at Stiles and gives him a thumbs up, shutting the door. What, Scott? What does he think can happen?

“Let me buy you another shirt,” Derek insists. “Really, it’s the least I can do. I mean, it’s not a huge deal. Sir Barkington once destroyed my last neighbor’s garden, I can definitely take the responsibility.”

“No way, I mean, it’s not your fault he’s pink. Or is it…” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes.

Derek laughs. “No, Cora was telling Elyse how she got her hair so blue, and they were talking about Kool-Aid and the next thing I know she’s got Sir Barkington in the bathtub and he’s pink. She used like, three boxes of Kool-Aid mix.” He shakes his head.

“Sounds awesome. It’ll fade away eventually, or the hair will grow out. Plus, now you don’t have to get a costume for Sir Barkington.”

“True,” Derek muses.

The dog whines, and Derek picks him up, patting his head.

“At least the dye is definitely set now. You’re not getting any of the color on you.” Stiles steps in close and taps Sir Barkington on the nose playfully.

“Yeah,” Derek breathes. “I— I had a good time last night. Thank you for inviting me.”

“I had a great time too,” Stiles says. Now would be a great time to ask him to dinner. Normal dating people would say like, Friday, and a rush would be tomorrow, but… “I’m heading back to the bakery after this and making some of my famous Moon Pies for the Halloween festival. Would you like to come hang out? I can show you how to make them.”

“I’d love to,” Derek says.

Sir Barkington gets his collar back on and leashed, and then they’re walking out towards the parking lot. Stiles shivers a bit in the crisp autumn air, and Derek notices immediately.

“You might get a cold. Here, I always keep spares with me,” he says, rooting about in the trunk of the Camaro. Derek reaches into a duffel and pulls out a soft maroon sweater. It’s old and worn and obviously a much-loved garment.

“Oh, thanks,” Stiles says, slipping it on. It’s a little too big for Stiles, and all the more cozier for it.

And there are thumbholes.

“No problem,” Derek says, smiling. “I have to drop off some stuff at the post office and Barks at Laura’s but I’ll meet you at the bakery, alright? I can’t wait to learn how to make these full moon things.”

“Moon pies,” Stiles corrects.

 

* * *

 

Wearing Derek’s sweater is like being surrounded in a constant hug. Maybe Stiles brought the fabric to his nose and breathed it in, maybe he imagined what it might be like slipping on this sweater after waking up with Derek. Either way he’s happy.

He strides into his bakery and hums to himself, nodding at Serena from the station, getting her afternoon scone and coffee. Mrs Simmons is counting her change when she spots Stiles. “Well, well, well,” she says.

“What?”

Mrs. Simmons clucks to herself. “You know if you give away the milk for free, he won’t buy the cow.”

Serena bursts out laughing. “Mrs. Simmons said you were at lunch, not a booty call,” she says. “Bet your dad will think that’s hilarious. You dating someone, I didn’t know that.”

Stiles takes back every nice thing he’s said about small towns. He hates small towns.

“I’m not dating anyone, and don’t tell my dad I have lunchtime booty calls because it’s not— stop laughing! The both of you!”

“That’s not the shirt you left with,” Mrs. Simmons says. “Young man, I don’t begrudge you your fun, but like I said, you should save something for—”

“Oh my GOD, there is no milk! There is no cow!” Stiles grabs an apron and pushes through to the back kitchen, grumbling.

“We know, we know, I’m just pulling your chain, sweetheart.”

Stiles snorts as he starts assembling the ingredients he’ll need for Moon Pies. He gets everything ready and has the oven preheated when Derek is ushered through the door.

“She’s kind of pushy, but I like her,” Derek says, once the door shuts. “Has she worked for you long?”

“Just today,” Stiles says.

“She said to ask you about buying the cow. What’s that about?”

“Nothing,” Stiles says, hoping his embarrassed flush isn’t apparent. “Alright, are you ready to make the best Moon Pies you’ve ever had in your life?”


	4. Playing for Keeps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [mad-madam-m](http://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com) and [metakate](http://metakate.tumblr.com) for the read through and the help!

Stiles is convinced Derek wants to kiss him. He keeps drifting closer, and then staring at Stiles’ lips while he works.

Stiles, to his credit, is pulling out all the stops. He bites his lip constantly, licks them, tests out a batch of marshmallow fluff by spooning a generous amount into his mouth, slowly licking the white stickiness off his lips, watching Derek’s reaction.

Derek’s ears turn pink.

It’s adorable.

There are cookies baking in the oven, and the chocolate sauce is slowly tempering on the stove. Derek has proven to be a fairly competent baker, but after he knocked over a bowl of batter Stiles has confined him to sitting on one counter so he doesn’t upset anything else.

“Here, try the chocolate,” Stiles says, bringing a spoonful of melted chocolate over to Derek’s lips.

Derek nearly falls off the counter trying to lick the spoon, so Stiles takes a deep breath and steps forward, in between Derek’s legs, and brings the spoon close.

Derek’s lips part and he’s looking Stiles, not the spoon.

Stiles takes it as sign, closes his eyes and moves to bridge that last inch between their lips.

The door flies open.

“Stiles, the walking recess is here and I don’t know your policy on handing out sweets to children but I think they’re pulling my leg, you don’t just give them all free cookies, do you— Oh.” Mrs. Simmons stands in the doorway, smirking at them.

Stiles coughs and steps back. “I set aside the oatmeal raisin cookies by the window for them,” he says.

“I sold those,” Mrs. Simmons says.

Stiles sighs. He can hear the clamoring of children in the front, and poor Ms. Cortez is talking over them, trying to calm them down. He glances back at Derek, who steps down from the counter, shifting about in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m gonna show Mrs. Simmons how to do this afternoon bit with the kids, can you take those out of oven in a sec?”

“Sure,” Derek says.

“I’ll be right back.”

He straightens his apron and heads through the door, just as Mrs. Simmons whispers quietly, “Milk. Cow.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles maybe considers himself lucky he didn’t actually go ahead and kiss Derek. That may have been moving too fast, right? Stiles is used to moving fast though; he’s impulsive as hell, but he hasn’t had a serious relationship in forever. And this is nothing at all like trying to get laid at a club— Stiles hasn’t done that in years, but his body certainly remembers the game.

This isn’t that. Stiles doesn’t want to seduce Derek.

He takes a deep breath, watching Derek crouch down and help tie a second-grader’s shoe.

Stiles wants to _keep_ Derek.

Having chided himself on the almost kiss, his confidence is a little shaken. What if he messed it all up? He can’t afford to make any mistakes. He has one week to woo Derek and it’s already almost halfway over.

 

* * *

 

Derek hangs out at the bakery for awhile, and Stiles gets the opportunity to really talk to the man while he bakes, and Derek even rolls up his shirt sleeves to try his hand at kneading dough. (Those forearms, whoa.)

It’s the conversation that really does it for him; Stiles feels like he can talk to Derek forever— they have different tastes in music and Derek prefers Marvel and Stiles DC, but it’s too much fun, arguing and teasing, and it’s an easy rhythm that Stiles has never had before, someone who can match him step by step.

The weird thing is that Stiles grew up knowing the Hales; they were like everyone’s family. Talia Hale was mayor when Stiles was a kid, he remembers cheering at her speeches, when she dedicated the fountain; Laura was Stiles’ Little League softball coach and Stiles went to school with Cora, from kindergarten to high school. Derek he had found painfully intimidating; teenage Derek liked to slick his hair back, wear leather jackets, was a huge basketball star at BHHS, and then he disappeared to college before Stiles could ever even work up the courage to talk to him.

“Of course I remembered you,” Derek says. There’s flour on his nose and he keeps wrinkling it, trying to get it off. “I always thought you were hilarious.”

“I know I was funny looking,” Stiles says, a horrified memory of what he looked like in high school coming to mind— all pale and scrawny and he had that ridiculous buzzcut.

“No, _you_ were funny, like I laughed for days when you kept trying to explain to Cora that joke about the bread and I have no idea what it was about now either but like.. even after I went back to school every time I would see bread I couldn’t _not_ smile. You’re great.” Derek smiles fondly at Stiles.

Stiles blushes, feeling warm all the way to his toes— and it’s not because of the ovens are all on either. He slides a rack of pastries into the oven and shuts the door, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach and trying to turn the conversation somewhere else.

Derek mentioned Laura had taken Elyse to the zoo earlier, which makes Stiles curious since the Beacon County Zoo is amazing. He loves that place and wonders why anyone would want to miss out. “So how come you didn’t go with them?”

Derek finally rubs his nose to get the flour off but only succeeds in spreading it around even more. “I had a bunch of paperwork to do this morning, sending in job applications all around, or well, deciding between job applications or going back and getting a PhD... I really needed to concentrate.”

“Wait, I thought you were a professor! You wrote a book!”

“I said I taught history at Georgetown, yeah; but as a post-grad. And lots of people write books; it’s academia. I wasn’t the only author on that one, either. But yeah, it’s complicated...plus I had to try and resolve the Sir Barkington situation.”

Stiles laughs. “It’s okay. Pink’s a good look on him.”

“My sweater’s a good look on you,” Derek blurts out, and then looks startled at himself. “Sorry, I was thinking out loud, I’m normally not this forward at all, I…”

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, pleased.

“I really like you, Stiles,” Derek admits. “To be honest I’ve always been disappointed when I came back to town and you were still living in New York. I mean, I followed your restaurant career for awhile and I think it’s awesome, but it’s just… really nice to see you again. And then you asked me out, and I normally don’t date at all, it’s complicated and weird with academia and my life and the upheaval and then me wanting and then getting a daughter…”

“No, it’s cool, I understand that, you wanted a kid. It doesn’t matter it was before you had a partner or not. I think you’re doing a great job on your own. Elyse is great.”

Derek nods. “She’s wonderful. The first few years were hard and now it’s still challenging, but I’ve got a bit of breathing room and my sisters are always telling me to ‘treat myself’ and just… running into you and yeah. I dunno. I ran so far from home and I always was like… Beacon Hills is so cheesy, all this ridiculous stuff they do for Halloween and the leaves hardly change color. But I’m kind of falling in love with it all over again.”

“So when you said you were thinking about moving back to Beacon Hills…” Stiles says hopefully.

“I’m seriously thinking about it,” Derek says with a soft smile.

It’s enough to make Stiles jump for joy, but he controls himself. The conversation gets a bit lighter, and they joke around about Stiles’ singing to his rising bread loaves, and then Derek has to go pick up Laura and Elyse from the zoo.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday Stiles throws all caution to the wind. Derek _likes_ him. And before Stiles has done anything impressive, really. He’s gonna knock Derek’s socks off.

He did enough baking yesterday that it’s just the morning fresh pastries, and then he’s pretty much scot free for the rest of the day. With Mrs. Simmons to mind the bakery, he actually doesn’t need to stick around.

Stiles gets excited, trying to come up with a plan.

 **_To: Don’t Let This One Get Away >> _ ** _lunch plans?_

 **_From: Don’t Let This One Get Away <<_ ** _Spending the day with Elyse at Laura’s house. Lunch is macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets, the extent of my cooking ability._

 **_To: Don’t Let This One Get Away >> _ ** _can i bring you guys food?_

 **_From: Don’t Let This One Get Away << _ ** _That would be amazing._

Stiles decides to improve on the mac’n’cheese idea. He whips up a quick batch of four cheese macaroni mixed with chunks of broccoli and slices of grilled chicken, then spoons the mixture into a muffin tin, topping it with garlic breadcrumbs and baking until golden.

He finds a cute picnic basket (thank you, Allison) and tucks in the mac’n’cheese cups into it, arranging it attractively, and then he’s off.

Laura and Cora Hale live in the Preserve, about a mile past the main Hale manor, which is now a historical landmark. Talia and her husband Noah still live there, but they both are retired now and just manage the property and lead tours.

Stiles drives up to the red cottage by the lake and parks his Jeep next to the water, whistling at the view. He brings his basket to the front door, and laughs at himself.

He’s wearing a red hoodie.

Might as well.

Stiles pulls the hood over his head just as Derek opens the door.

“Why, Grandmother, what big teeth you have,” Stiles says cheekily.

Derek takes one look at him and laughs. “Come on in.”

“Daddy! He’s playing Little Red Riding Hood! You have to play pretend back, it’s not nice when someone starts a game of pretend and you ignore them!” Elyse says, peeping behind Derek. “You have to say you’ll huff and puff and blow—”

“Wrong fairytale, sweetie,” Derek says. “That’s Three Little Pigs.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, holding the basket aloft. “Who’s ready for lunch?”

Elyse jumps up and down. “Me, me, me!”

“Oh my God, Stiles, this is amazing,” Derek says, taking one of the mac’n’cheese bakes and handing it to Elyse. He bites into one himself, and Stiles savors the dreamy expression that crosses his face.

Elyse eats an entire one all by herself, even the broccoli, which makes Derek give Stiles a thumbs up, too. Even Sir Barkington gets to eat one, and he huffs happily, wagging his entire butt again.

After lunch, Elyse insists Stiles stay and color with her.

“You don’t have to,” Derek says. “You came all the way out here with food, that’s a gift in itself, really.”

“I love spending time with you guys,” Stiles says, eagerly accepting the construction paper and handful of stubby crayons Elyse presents him with.

They talk about the zoo, and Stiles has a great time laughing and getting Elyse to draw all the different animals she saw, while Derek is just smiling at them, drawing and shading a wolf on his own construction paper. It’s nice, just the three of them, the sound of crayons scratching, the wind rustling the trees outside, the view of the lake and the Preserve through the window.

Sir Barkington has fallen asleep right atop Stiles’ feet too, breathing rhythmically.

“You have to draw too, Stiles,” Elyse insists.

“What happened to the Mister?” Stiles teases.

Elyse makes a face. “You’re not at work. You call grownups by their Mister or Missus if they are at work or if you don’t know them, but I know you now and you’re here, so you get to be Stiles.”

Stiles grins. “Alrighty then.”

He gives up on what he can color so he pulls Derek into a game of tic tac toe while Elyse is engrossed in another drawing. Stiles sees her draw a girl in an orange and blue princess dress and then Derek, lovingly rendered in (also orange and blue crayon) holding her hand.

“I have never owned an orange and blue shirt,” Derek says, shaking his head.

“Hey, it looks good on you,” Stiles says, laughing. “Here, don’t forget his eyebrows.” He passes Elyse a black crayon and she giggles, drawing in exceptionally bushy ones on Derek’s face and then giving him wild, sticky-outy hair.

She even draws Sir Barkington in pink crayon.

“Aww, what a great drawing of your family,” Stiles says.

“I’m not done,” Elyse says, rolling her eyes and huffing indignantly at Stiles in the way only five year olds can.

Stiles watches her draw another person— he figured it would be one of her aunts, or maybe her grandparents, but she takes the red crayon and draws a person in a red hoodie, right next to her and Derek in the picture, and then connects their hands.

“There! Done!” Elyse says proudly. “This is when we went to see the ghosts, and Daddy got scared. Sir Barkington wasn’t pink yet but I wanted to draw him pink, so there.”

She pushes the drawing away and jumps back from the table. “Done with coloring!” she sings. “Time to go slay the dragon! Sir Barkington, let’s go!”

Elyse jumps up, still filled with energy, chasing the dog around the couch, leaving Derek and Stiles at the table, staring at this drawing of hers.

“She’s five,” Derek says quickly. “Um, it doesn’t mean that you have to—”

Stiles leans forward and kisses Derek without hesitation.

 

 

* * *

 

 


	5. Stolen Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's theme is Scene Stealer, so I took a few moments from The Princess Bride. Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks again to [mad-madam-m](http://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com) and [metakate](http://metakate.tumblr.com) for the read through!

The kiss only lasts a second but Stiles swears an eternity of happiness floods through his mind, a vision of him and Derek holding hands with Elyse and skipping through the park, Stiles and Derek at a candlelit dinner, Derek and he exchanging rings under an altar blooming with flowers.

Derek opens his eyes and smiles dazedly at Stiles, and it’s all Stiles can do to smile back.

“That was…” Derek starts.

“No! Gross! Kissing is yucky!” Elyse says loudly. She’s wearing a sparkly crown she’s procured from somewhere and has found a scepter. “We are playing princess and you CANNOT KISS because you are my KNIGHTS and we have to go scare the dragon away from my subjects!”

Elyse points at Sir Barkington, who is wearing a pair of green fairy wings, sitting atop a pile of stuffed animals. The dog whines, scratching at the wings until they fall off.

“Nooo,” Elyse says.

“That’s okay, he can be a DOUS,” Stiles says, standing up and walking over, accepting the plastic sword that Elyse hands him. “Dog of Unusual Size.”

“Dog of Unusual Size?” Derek questions without hesitation, joining them. He picks up a pink inflatable battle axe. “I don’t think they exist, Buttercup.”

“Hey, who said I’m Buttercup, you’re Buttercup. I’m Wesley, also known as the dashing and fearsome Dread Pirate Roberts,” Stiles says, brandishing his sword.

Derek laughs. “As you wish.”

Elyse stomps her foot. “Daddy, the game! Stop making the kissing face at Stiles. No kissing. We have a KINGDOM TO SAVE!”

“Kissing face?” Stiles asks.

Elyse shakes her head. “There! That face. He made that face yesterday when he came home and Aunt Cora even kicked his butt at Candyland and Daddy is really, really good at Candyland.”

Derek blushes. “I just— you’re distracting, Stiles.”

“NO KISSING!” Elyse declares.

Sir Barkington yips at them, wagging his butt, knocking over a few stuffed bears.

“Can we hold hands?” Stiles asks.

“Okay,” Elyse says, nodding. “To battle!”

 

* * *

 

 

They save the kingdom from the Dog of Unusual Size, and then Elyse insists on traveling to Narnia and also Hogwarts at the same time, but they make it work. Stiles is incredibly impressed with Derek’s uncanny ability to just completely go with whatever imaginary scenario she comes up with. And Derek has a fantastic booming Hagrid voice as well.

Stiles ends up staying the entire afternoon, and Derek holds his hand a few times during the games, and each time it sends a little flutter of butterflies through him.

Laura gets home with a huge bag filled with Thai takeout, watching them bemusedly in the living room playing The Floor is Lava.

“Hey, Stiles,” Laura says.

“My favorite deputy!” Stiles exclaims.

“My favorite baker,” Laura says, setting the food on the table. “And former chef. If I knew you were going to be here I would have asked you to cook something epic.”

Stiles laughs sheepishly. “I came to have lunch with Derek, actually, and I guess we lost track of time. But you went to Tantawan Kitchen! They have the best satay.”

“They do,” Laura agrees. “Cora texted me and said she wanted extra protein and lots of noodly carbs tonight, big fight tomorrow, so here I am.”

Derek invites Stiles to stay for dinner as well, with an added, “If you’re not tired of us.”

“No way,” Stiles says.

“Why don’t I get Elyse washed up for dinner, and Derek, you should totally show Stiles the pumpkin patch,” Laura says. “Figure out which ones are jack-o-lantern ready.” She winks.

A light breeze rustles around them, stirring up the crisp autumn air, and Derek’s hand is warm in his as they walk along the trail behind the cottage.

The pumpkin patch is relatively small but overgrown with chubby pumpkins, bright and orange against their stalks on the ground. From here they can see the entire lake reflecting the setting sun,; golden amongst the reflection of the woods around them.

“Sorry, it’s not that romantic,” Derek says.

“Are you kidding me? This is gorgeous.”

“I mean today; you probably didn’t expect to play pretend the whole afternoon,” Derek says. “Not that I didn’t appreciate it—”

“I had a fantastic time,” Stiles says. “And look, you’re a parent. I get that. You don’t have to apologize for being a parent. An amazing one at that.”

“Thanks,” Derek says. “Maybe I should rephrase, then. I had a good time playing save the kingdom and everything with you, but—”

“The princess declared no kissing. Royal decree, shame, that.”

“Ah, but we’re in different territory now. An entirely new kingdom where we’re standing. Pumpkin patch kingdom,” Derek says solemnly.

Stiles bites back a chuckle. “Okay, and who rules Pumpkin Patch Kingdom?”

“The Pumpkin King over there, of course,” Derek says, nodding at the largest pumpkin sitting lopsidedly at the end of the patch. “And I hear kissing is not only allowed, but encouraged here.”

“Oh, really—”

Derek takes Stiles’ hand and whirls him around in a low dip, kissing him senseless.

Stiles doesn’t know what is up or down but he does know Derek’s mouth, hot on his own, lips soft and sweet and he’s melting inside.

He’s breathless when they pull apart, and Derek presses his forehead gently to Stiles’ own. They stand there for a long moment, with Derek holding Stiles in the dip until Stiles pulls him forward by the shirt to claim another kiss.

They tumble to the ground, and a pumpkin smashes underneath them with a loud squelch. After  laughing and wiping pumpkin bits off each other they settle on the ground, side by side, watching the sunset.

Derek takes Stiles’ hand, caressing his palm with his thumb. “This is okay?”

Stiles rests his head on Derek’s shoulder. “This is awesome.”

“I mean like… well, I haven’t dated in a long while but the kiss and the…”

“I kissed you first, dude.”

Derek sighs. “I really enjoy spending time with you. I’m a little overwhelmed with how much I want you. I don’t do casual, Stiles.”

“That’s fine, I, um , I don’t think of you— of us— as casual,” Stiles says, awkwardly.

“But I’m _visiting;_ I live on the other side of the country, working in a job where I’m tethered to location, it’s just…”

“There is this amazing technology you know, at the click of a button! I can summon your image and voice to this handheld device and somehow it will send you a depiction of me and my voice! In real time!” Stiles nudges Derek’s shoulder playfully. “Look, I’m not saying that the whole you-don’t-live-here situation hasn’t come up in my mind. But the way I see it, life’s a series of opportunities. You’re here for a week, I wanted to get to know you, as much as I can. And after that, we can see where it goes, whether you come back or if you stay or we keep talking through the magic of technology. Really. It’s fine. I just… don’t want to miss this chance, okay?”

Derek gives him a searching look and then cups his chin, bringing him close for another sweet, short kiss. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner is noisy but good; it was Stiles and his dad, just the two of them for the longest time, and then Stiles alone in New York and now Stiles (and sometimes at his dad’s house) alone in his apartment in Beacon Hills, so he just sits back and enjoys the warmth of the Hale family. This isn’t even all of them; he remembers huge Hale family dinners with all the aunts and uncles and baby cousins and all that.

Cora is full of stories from the gym; her blue hair glistens in the lamplight and she laughs as she tells everyone the details of a particularly exciting fight.

There’s a good bit of teasing from Laura’s end too; she pours Stiles a glass of milk and winks, and Stiles sighs again at how fast word gets around town. He drinks the entire glass in one go, staring Laura down until she bursts out in laughter.

They eat barbeque chicken satay with peanut sauce and pad see ew and Elyse gets noodles all over her face, and Stiles is ridiculously stuffed at the end of it.

Elyse insists that Stiles stay and play Candyland with them; not to Stiles’ surprise, Laura and Cora are ridiculously competitive.

“Derek is worse,” Laura says. “He’s just too heart-eyed over you right now to play seriously.”

“I can too play seriously,” Derek says, picking up his piece. “Ha! I just got a shortcut through Mountain Pass.”

They play a few games before Elyse wants stories read to her before she goes to bed. “And Stiles has to read. I don’t know what his story voices are like, I know everyone else’s.”

Elyse picks a book of fairy tales, and insists on Beauty and the Beast.

Stiles clears his throat and tries his best to do as many voices as he can. Elyse’s eyes are drooping by the time he gets to the end where the spell is broken and Beauty kisses the human-again prince, reunited.

“And then she reached forward to embrace— ah, you don’t like the kissing parts, it’s okay. So then they lived happily ever after and—”

“Wait, wait, it’s okay. Read me the kissing,” Elyse says sleepily.

Stiles finishes the story, and Elyse nods, satisfied. Derek pulls the blanket up to her chin, tucking it tightly and kisses her head. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

“Goodnight, Daddy. Can you leave so I can say goodnight to Stiles?”

“Sure.” Derek throws Stiles a curious look.

Elyse waits until Derek leaves, and then whispers “It’s okay if you want to kiss my Daddy.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, grinning. “Thank you for the permission, Your Highness.”

“Just not when the kingdom is in danger. No kissing when we have to fight.”

“I promise,” Stiles says.


	6. Some Songs For Falling, Some for Shaking

Mrs. Simmons is efficient. So efficient Stiles is almost out of this week’s stock. He wonders how much time he spent baking or lingering around the counter chatting with people, but she assures him it’s because of her stellar business skills.

Stiles agrees and just heads back to the kitchen.

He puts on the radio, singing as he rolls out another batch of dough. Life is amazing and wonderful and it’s just one of those days he’s just so _happy_ to be alive.

“I’ve been spending ALL MY TIME, just thinkin’ bout you,” Stiles belts out along with Colbie Caillat as she croons on the radio. “I don’t know what to do… I think [I’m falling for you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wcBs_wdmwk0)—oooohh,” Stiles sings to his spoon.

He switches out a finished loaf of bread with a fresh batch, and by then the cake he’d prepared for tomorrow’s All’s Hallow’s Eve Festival at the old Hale house (now Beacon Hills Historic Monument) is all cool and ready to decorate.

Stiles dances around as he pulls out the buttercream frosting he made earlier from the fridge, ladling it out into smaller bowls and starts mixing the colors he’ll need. He’s doing a variation of a haunted house cake, except the house will look exactly like the Hales’ house, decorated as it is right now.

Stiles hums along to the opening riff to the next song, one of his favorites. Gotta hand it to Danny up at BH Radio for keeping things random. From happy cute pop to the sensual stylin’s of the Black Keys, whew.

Stiles shimmies to the song as he whips the frosting into stiff peaks, singing “[Baby, I’m howlin’ for you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vrmy_Yjc4Ik),” in his best seductive voice. He does a twirl and yelps when he sees Derek in the doorway, watching him with amusement.

“Hey! Derek! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I wanted to bring you your invitation to the festival,” Derek says, handing Stiles an embossed cardstock. _Stiles Stilinski_ is written in swirling calligraphy across the top.

“Dude, I thought they stopped doing the paper invites because you know, email. And we all know there’s a party every year.” Stiles takes the heavy card and looks at the fancy lettering. “I thought the paper invites were only for like, the bigshots like the Mayor and the fancy people. I am not one of them, definitely.”

“I just wanted an excuse to come over and see you,” Derek admits.

“We’re dating, you don’t need an excuse,” Stiles says, grinning. “Although that was super cute. Say that again.”

“I wanted to see you?”

“Mmmhmm,” Stiles leans in and kisses Derek quickly on the lips.

“That was fancy,” Derek says, blushing. “I say you can definitely be one of the fancy people.”

Stiles snorts.

“What are you making?”

“Surprise for your mom. It’s gonna look like your old house. Wanna help?”

The house comes together slowly with Derek telling Stiles little homey details about how this front door would always creak and the attic is supposed to have three ghosts, not two.

The finished cake is a glorious confection of frosting and fondant and candy, and Stiles is tired but pleased.

Derek’s got an adorable streak of purple frosting on his cheek, and Stiles carefully wipes it off.

A new song comes on the radio, a familiar guitar strumming and then sweet and slow, “[Kiss me, out in the bearded barley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N-qO3sPMjc)…”

Derek raises his eyebrows and gives him a cheeky smile.

Stiles laughs and steps forward, kissing Derek quickly and then about to step back when Derek cups his chin and brings him in close again for another deep kiss.

Their bodies are aligned, Stiles pressing Derek to the wall. Derek wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist and draws him close, and Stiles loses himself to the warm, happy feeling of Derek’s arms around him, Derek’s lips, and the soft tickle of his beard.

“Kiss me, beneath the milky twilight…”

The song is soft and romantic and perfect and Stiles could probably kiss Derek forever.

The radio doesn’t agree. The next song is bouncy and Stiles recognizes the first few beats, and Derek does too, the way he pulls back and starts laughing.

Stiles snorts, but Derek seems to think the random choice in music is hilarious, chuckling uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry, do you not like [big butts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlItMpGYQTo)?” Stiles says.

“It’s just funny, I mean, the station, and like we—”

“Come on, look at this,” Stiles says, turning around and popping his hip, then swiveling to the other side, then shaking his ass to the song.

Derek turns bright red. “Ah, yes, that’s very nice, I—”

“Like big butts and you cannot lie, Derek!”

“I—”

“Do you not like my butt?”

“I like you,” Derek says, laughing.

“Great, now I’m self conscious about my butt,” Stiles says, pouting.

“It’s a nice butt,” Derek says, reaching an arm out and giving him a gentle pat.

“That is not how you smack dat ass,” Stiles says, backing himself up onto Derek’s hand. “Come on, smack dat, all on the floor, smack that, give me some more.”

“That’s not even the right song,” Derek says, laughing. “And is this appropriate conversation for… what is this, the fifth date?”

“I bet Sir Mix A lot and Akon would probably get along. They should mashup those songs, it’d be a great celebration of all things booty.”

Derek laughs, taking Stiles by the hand and swinging him around so they’re face to face again. “You’re ridiculous and I love it.” He kisses Stiles again, short and sweet.

“Oh come on, this is plenty romantic! You got to see my moves!”

“‘Baby Got Back’ is hardly a song to fall in love to.”

“So you admit it, you’re falling for me,” Stiles says gleefully.

Derek looks down at his feet, embarrassed, but then he looks back up. “Who’s to say I only _just_ started falling for you? Maybe it happened awhile ago and you never knew.”


	7. Of Halloween and Kings

Stiles is kind of stunned, because he can count how many conversations he’s had with Derek Hale before he moved away, and he’s pretty sure he was awkward and weird in all of them.

“No way, there’s no way you liked me before,” Stiles says. “I was a weird teenager!”

“You are also a weird adult,” Derek says. “So I’m not sure what your point is.”

 _“You’re_ the weird one,” Stiles retorts, and the two of the burst out into laughter again.

“I have to go finish some job applications, but I’ll see you tomorrow at the party,” Derek says, but not before kissing him once more before he leaves.

 

* * *

 

The cake is a huge hit. A huge round of applause breaks out— well from the few Hales that are putting a final few touches on the food table before the party officially begins.

“Stiles, you’ve outdone yourself,” Talia says, setting the completed haunted house cake on the table. “This is wonderful.”

“The stair in the back squeaks, look,” Stiles says, making the fondant stair jiggle.

“Very accurate,” Talia says, laughing. “I’m so happy you’ve reconnected with Derek, he’s been unable to talk about anything else since he’s been here.”

“Ah, yeah,” Stiles says, embarrassed. “He’s great. And Elyse is great too, I’m just happy to spend time with them. You look fantastic, by the way! Did all of you guys plan together to be the Addams family?”

Talia bows slightly, her trailing sleeve fluttering as she goes. Further down in the hallway her husband Noah is dressed as Gomez, complete with slick mustache.

“Well, Cora and Laura fought over who got to be Wednesday, so we in the end everyone just decided to do their own thing. I don’t think we’ve had a successful Hale family coordinated costume since Cora and Derek were kids; and now we’ve got way too many children and grandchildren, so.”

Stiles laughs, trying to picture coordinating all the thirty-odd Hales there must be, and that’s just first cousins.

Talia cocks her eyebrow. “And I’m sorry, dear, can you explain your costume to me?”

Stiles hadn’t been entirely sure what to go with— his dad stole his Indiana Jones idea, so he couldn’t do that, and Erica offered him the full range of all the “historical” outfits from the tour’s costume rack. After trying on a bunch of everything (and he did look pretty good in the corset, but probably not appropriate for this kind of party), Stiles finally settled on some sort of nobleman outfit. There’s a brocaded tunic and leggings and he’s tried to sing a couple tunes from Galavant to people at the bakery but no one really gets it; shame there wasn’t any armor or stuff like that available.

“Yeah, it’s vague, um, do you know this musical show… yeah, okay, you should watch it, it’s great,” Stiles says, trying to explain the concept of Galavant. “Do you need any more help setting up?”

“No, I think guests will be arriving soon. Thank you for the lovely cake, Stiles. Help yourself and wander around; I think Laura really did a splendid job with the haunted graveyard effects too.”

Stiles pours himself some spiced apple cider and soon enough the doorbell is ringing and the town’s largest Halloween party is afoot. He spots Erica and Boyd walk in together as Catwoman and Batman, and then Stiles gets to compliment Cora on her T-Rex costume (it lights up and is awesome).

One of the most delightful things is seeing Scott and Allison walk in holding the twins’ hands, and the twins are wearing matching hats.

Stiles whips out his phone, laughing uproariously. “Reese and Pieces wearing their names, oh gosh, perfect,” he says.

“When you have kids I’m gonna nickname them so bad,” Scott promises.

Stiles laughs. “Ha, jokes on you, buddy, because that might be awhile—”

“STILES!”

Stiles looks down and Elyse has attached himself to his leg, grinning happily. She’s wearing a more sparkly variation of the orange-and-blue princess dress he saw her in on Monday; looks like Derek found time to add more glitter and poofy fabric, and Elyse is also wearing a sparkly crown.

“Hey, Princess Elyse,” Stiles says. “You look great.”

Scott gives Stiles a pointed look.

Stiles rubs the back of his head nervously. “Ahaha, yeah, hey, Ally, did you see the cake I made? You should totally show Scotty and Reese and Pieces the cake. I baked their names into it and everything.”

Allison snorts. “Sure thing. C’mon, Scott.”

Meanwhile Elyse is scrunching her face at Stiles. Presumably at his not-costume. Hey, he’s been busy!

“I know, I know, you can’t tell what I’m—”

“Prince Charming!” Elyse says, matter-of-fact.

“What? No, I’m Sir Galavant, it’s okay if you don’t get it—”

“No, you have to be Prince Charming,” Elyse says, plucking the crown off her head and handing it to Stiles.

“Elyse, I can’t take your crown,” Stiles says, trying to give it back.

“I’m wearing a princess dress. Everyone knows I’m a princess. I don’t need it,” Elyse says, putting her hands on her hips.

That’s very true.

“Okay, fine, I’ll be Prince Charming for you,” Stiles says, putting the crown on his head. It’s remarkably heavy, for plastic jewels and painted cardboard.

“Not for me, come on!” Elyse grabs his hand and starts leading him outside the house, towards the haunted graveyard.

“Where’s your dad, by the way?” Stiles asks.

“Daddy had to wait by the pond,” Elyse says.

“Why— oh. Hi, Derek,” Stiles says, biting his lip.

Derek is standing next to the pond with a resigned look, wearing what looks to be a giant frog-shaped onesie.

It’s actually really cute. And looks very comfortable and soft, Stiles kinda wants to give him a hug to see how it feels.

“Princess and the frog, that’s awesome,” Stiles says. “You look ribbiting. Riveting, you know—”

“Thanks, Stiles,” Derek says, spots of color on his cheek. “Oh, I wanted to tell you—”

Elyse shrieks. “Bobbing for apples! Come on, I want to beat Auntie Laura!”

They let her pull them along to where the game is starting, and through the chaos of the party Stiles doesn’t have much time to have a conversation with Derek, as the music starts going and the noise starts reaching incredible levels. Children are running around, laughing and screaming and “Thriller” is on, which means a good number of nostalgic adults are trying to dance to it as well.

Finally after the costume contest (which Reese and Pieces win, to popular vote), Elyse tugs on Stiles’ pant leg and says, “Remember you have to break the curse before we can go home.”

“The what?”

“Daddy’s a frog. Like the story, you know,” Elyse says, rolling her eyes.

“Ah, right,” Stiles says, watching Derek laugh and joke with Scott on the other side of the room. “True Love’s Kiss,” he says, heart pounding. “Ah, what if, um, I don’t know how I— or if he—”

“Grownups are so dumb,” Elyse says. “I’m gonna go play with Auntie Cora. You can come get me when you’re ready to go home.”

Go home. Like she’s expecting Stiles to go with her and Derek.

Derek catches his eye and smiles, and he walks over. The hood of the frog onesie has slipped off, so now it just looks like Derek is just wearing bright green pajamas, and he still looks like the most gorgeous man Stiles has ever met.

“Hey,” Derek says. “Looks like Elyse stumped you with a riddle.”

“Kind of,” Stiles says. “What were you trying to say earlier?”

Derek looks nervous. “Oh, yeah, I wanted to tell you, I just found out— well, I guess I already knew I wanted to— well okay, I went over to BHCC yesterday to look at the campus, and I ended up talking with Dean of History about my application and they said they’d love to have me start during the winter quarter. And just my masters’ degree is fine, and since I’m not looking to do research and didn’t have too many conditions of my own— I— what I’m saying is that. It’s official, that is. Elyse and I are going to stay in Beacon Hills.”

“Oh my GOD,” Stiles declares, stepping forward and hugging Derek round the waist. He tries to pick him up and swing him around, but only gets a few inches off the ground before he sets a laughing Derek back down. “I think I’m gonna, yeah I’m gonna kiss you now, I don’t care if it’s in front of the whole town,” he says.

Derek smiles. “Well, Elyse did warn me that I wasn’t allowed to take off the frog costume until you do, so I think it’s fair. True Love’s Kiss is pretty powerful stuff.”

“You really think so? We’ve been seeing each other for a week.”

“Stiles, with you, I think this is definitely the real thing,” Derek says, leaning forward and kissing Stiles so hard his head spins.

Across the room, over the noise of the party, Stiles can hear Elyse yell, “Look, Auntie Cora! Magic! Daddy is turning back into a prince!”

Stiles laughs, taking off the crown on his head and putting it on Derek’s. “Nah, you’ve always been a king to me.”

 

 

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the amazing support and feedback while I was writing this week! It's been a lot of fun (and pretty challenging, trying to finish a chapter a day), and I hope you enjoyed reading this bit of fluff.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm on [tumblr here!](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com)


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